Renewal
by The Heidster
Summary: [Complete] With a killer looking for Lighnting Girl, the FBI's strongest weapon, will Jess and Rob be able to regain the feelings that had been torn from them seven years ago? Full summary inside.
1. Happy Birthday, Jess

Hey, it's me again. While my Mediator and SOTP story are on hiatus—since I'm having the hardest time thinking up what to happen next—I'm keeping myself occupied with this story. It's been an idea that has been back and forth inside my head ever since Meg Cabot put up the synopsis for _Missing You_, the last book.

Heidi

_Summary: Seven years ago, Jess and Rob broke up because Jess wanted to explore the world and go places and get out of her little hick town, while Rob just wanted to stay in Indiana—actually, their fight turned ended up to be a little more than that, but we'll get into that part later. Now it's seven years later, Jess just having turned twenty-three, and Rob being twenty-five. What if suddenly, they realize at the same time that they don't care about whatever else they wanted, all they wanted is each other? And what if this happened at the same time, a dangerous serial killer, looking to kill anyone they could get their hands on? Especially someone who could get the FBI's most powerful weapon, Lightening Girl, to do whatever they wanted? _

_Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Meg Cabot except the plot of _this_ story and the couple of characters that I made up. _

**Happy Birthday, Jess!**

I woke not to the dulcet tones of the singing birds outside my apartment nor the diabolical tone of the alarm clock, but to someone banging on my bedroom door going, "Jess, come on, get up!"

I looked over at my alarm clock. Six thirty in the morning? _Six thirty? On a Saturday morning? _Were they out of their mind?

But I dragged myself out of the bed anyways just to tell them to stop the banging.

You could see how surprised I was when I came out, a bunch of people—mostly from work—were standing there screaming, "Happy birthday, Jess!" at the top of their lungs…with my best friend Cecelia holding a banner that read, "Another Year Older Could Only Mean Another Year Better." Another year better my ass.

Then I remembered. My birthday, of course. Ditzy me, forgetting my own birthday. But I had an excuse, because unlike normal people, I don't like my birthday.

Not because I was born on an "unlucky day" or something corny like that. No, because my birthday reminded me of that day seven years ago…with him.

How we'd been talking about our futures and what we wanted to do. He said he wanted to open his own garage in Indiana and make a living there, but I had said that I wanted to go all over the world and travel. You know, maybe join a law enforcement team.

Then it started. A fight, I mean. He told me that he didn't want me to do law enforcement because it was dangerous. And then one thing lead to another and boom, ten minutes later we were in a raging fight. And we were both pouring in gasoline by the gallons into the fire.

And just like that. It was over.

So now, seven years later, I am here with my stupid law enforcement team.

Yes, I give I joined the FBI, okay? It's just that, after I graduated high school. I could no longer bear to see him again. So I moved. And called up Cyrus Krantz. I feel totally guilty about it. Not about calling him up. But the thing is, I didn't tell my family.

Well, that's not exactly true. I told Doug. But I plead him not to tell anybody, because I wanted to start a new life where no one knew me as Jessica Mastriani, girl with anger management problems. Or Jessica Mastriani, girl who Skip, Ruth's twin brother, has a crush on.

And I couldn't start a new life with people from my old life calling me up all the time or driving—or flying—over here demanding to see me. And also, if they—okay, one specific person—came over to see me, I knew I'd break.

I know it's totally wrong for me to cut my family, the people who gave me so much unconditional love, out of my life completely, but if that's what I have to do to keep _him_ away from breaking me up into pieces—for a lack of a better cliché—again, that's what I'll do.

That's what I did.

But I'll tell you a little secret, if you promise not to tell _anybody_. I still love him. And I've thought so many times to go back to Indiana and find him. But I didn't, because these seven years that I've been ignoring him would have been a total waste.

"Jess?" Cecelia woke me from my thoughts. "Earth to Jess?" she said, waving a hand in front of my face.

I smiled at her. "Yeah. Okay. What do you have planned?"

Cecelia grinned from ear to ear. She loved planning parties. She told me that she's been planning them ever since she was thirteen. Cecelia's great like that. You know, she's all tough at work, but totally sweet anywhere else.

Then she started to explain what we had planned for the party.

And I tuned out to 97.7 Jess's Thoughts About Rob F.M., because I was thinking about him _again_.

Don't worry, though. This happened every year. There would be a moment of weakness where I really wanted to go see him, and it would be out of my system by the end of the day.

But this year. . .This urge was stronger than the urges from all six years I haven't seen him, combined.

I had a feeling that this year, the urge—the emotions rushing up to my brain, telling me that I should go see him, and say "screw you" to everything else—wasn't going anywhere unless I do something about it.

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_I'm sorry that this first chapter was short—just treat it as a prologue. I just needed to know if people liked this idea. Please review. I'll put up the second chapter once I have three reviews. :-) _

_Heidi _


	2. A 'Friends' Moment

_Thank you for those who reviewed. And just so you know. Rob is coming up at the very end of this chapter though you won't see any fluff until the next chapter. Squee. And please note that this is a very long chapter._

_Heidi

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_Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the story plot and the new characters, everything else belongs to the greatest author on earth, Meg Cabot. _

**A "Friends" Moment**

"Oh, I am so that's over," I said to Cecelia, and plopped down on the couch.

Cecelia picked up a piece of wrapping paper off of the floor. "Why, did you not like the party I threw you? You know I took three weeks to plan that party," she teased.

I snorted. Such a typical Cecelia response.

Then I thought back to what I was thinking about the whole party.

You know, maybe I should get someone's opinion on this, so I asked Cecelia. If anyone knew what the right thing was to do, it would be her.

"Cee?" She looked up from behind the couch, where she was picking up littler pieces of confetti. See, that's another great thing about her besides the fact that she's…well, _perfect_. She actually _likes_ to clean. Which is a humongous help to me because…well I don't. Like to clean, I mean. "You know Rob?"

That caught her attention. She stood up and came to sit down beside me. "Yes," she said cautiously, because she knew all—okay, all except one thing which I have sworn to never let anyone know about, except the guys at the hospital, of course—about the crap I've been through because of him.

Actually, that isn't fair. It took two people to get that fight the way it was, which actually makes me sound dumb beyond belief. Pushing myself into a hellhole of misery and all.

"Well, do you think…." I trailed off trying to think of a good way to ask her whether I should go and find Rob or not, because, well, let's just say that when I was telling her the story about what happened between Rob and me, I sort of told her the biased version, in with Rob starred as the Big Bad Wolf and me as the little innocent piggy that got eaten by him.

But before I could say anything else, Cecelia, seeming to read my mind—and I thought _I_ was supposed to be the psychic. The part about me wanting to go and find Rob, not the part about the contorted story, held up a finger and said, "Don't."

I tried playing dumb. "Don't what?" I asked ingenuously.

She gave me a let's-get-real look and said, "I know what you're thinking about, Jess. We go through this every single year. He hurt you. Now, do you want that to happen again?"

I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat.

Jeez, leather really sticks to your thighs when it comes to the rainier seasons in Brooklyn. (a/n: I don't know if it's true or not, but just pretend it does, okay?")

"The guy has problems. I mean, come on. You went out with him, for, like two whole years and he's _never_ told you he loves you. Now, unless you want me to set you up with one of my 'wacko cousins'" she made air quotes, mocking the way I once referred to her male cousins, who are all either Satan worshippers or gay, "like last year, you'd better clear this ridiculous idea out of your head."

I stared at her for a while and felt my throat start to close up and decided that I'd better get what I was about to say out in the open before I lose my ability to speak.

"But Cecelia, I really miss him. I think I was wrong leaving him. I think he may have been the best thing that had ever happened to me. He was my soul mate. He was the only person I could tell everything to, up until I met you. I think he could have been my only chance at happiness and I may have ruined it."

I dropped my hand down into my hands and when I did, I felt wetness. I was crying.

Oh. My. God. I have not cried since _that day _seven years ago.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had been startled by my outburst, because Cecelia was practically staring at me like I'd suddenly grow horns on my head. And maybe I had, in a way.

After she got over her shock, she pulled my head into her arms, and said, "I didn't you know you felt so strongly about him."

Well, yeah. Why did she think went around with a little frown on my face all the time? Not because Krantz was such an ass. Well, he was, but that wasn't the reason for my unhappiness. It was all because of _him_. The him that I thought would last forever.

She pulled my head away from her and handed me a tissue. "Jess, you know what? I think you should go see him." Then she added, just to tease me, I think. "Maybe, then, we'll all see you smile for once at the office."

I punched her in the arm playfully, but as usual my playful punch didn't exactly come out right since she rubbed her arm and said sarcastically, "Thank you, Jess. For the wet shirt and the bruise."

"Anytime," I told her. "Anytime."

* * *

_A Day Later…_

"This the last boarding call for flight 009," the PA announced loudly, demanding that I go show the lady on the counter my boarding pass.

Hey, it wasn't my problem that the stupid carryon bag's strap slipped out of the little gadget that connected the backpack to the strap and that it took a long time to get it back into the little gadget.

After showing the lady at the counter, Maria her name tag read, my boarding pass, I got on the plane, found my spot, stuffed my backpack into the overhead compartment, and sat down next to this rather large businessman who smiled kindly at me while I took my seat.

About five minutes later, the flight attendant—Julie, I think she told us her name was—sauntered to the front of the plane to do her little demonstration with the seat belt.

While she was demonstrating how to strap on a seat belt—how old did she _think_ we are? Two?—I thought about what I was going to say to Rob.

I mean, I know I had a whole day to think about it, but I had to pack and talk to Dr. Krantz about letting me take a few days off work to talk to Rob—or actually to visit a sick aunt, as I informed him since it was hard enough with that excuse, no way was he going to let me go if I told him the truth.

I like to think that I'm a rather important part of the team. Being psychic and all.

But back to the whole what-am-I-going-to-say-to-Rob thing.

Then just as I was thinking about this, something cold and hard hit me. Sort of like how it would have felt if the evil stepfather actually got to hit me in that cave.

What if he had moved on and had gotten a girlfriend or was married or something? I mean, he's about twenty-five years old right now, and I don't have the right to tell him to wait for me forever because we broke up.

Suddenly, I wish I could make the plane turn back, but unfortunately, even being an FBI agent, I can't.

* * *

_Indiana—_

As soon as I got off the plane, I grabbed my luggage front the little luggage belt thing—I need to get my terminology correct one of these days—and headed outside to flag down a cab.

I had thought it through on my plane ride. I had a plan. The plan was that I was going to see Rob and pretend that I was here visiting Indiana and see if he's moved on or if he was still single.

Not that I was planning on getting back together with him or anything. No, I decided that I just wanted to see him and that's it…despite what my subconscious keeps telling me to do, which is get back with him.

I mean, I knew that I told you I love him and all, but sometimes love can be harmful. You know, maybe I should get more realistic and let my brain and common sense lead me instead of my heart.

Because the more I thought about it, the more I knew that I couldn't get back with him. I mean, it's been seven years. That's a long time, and maybe he's different now, or maybe I'm different now, you know? I just think it's a smart idea to stay out of a highly dangerous romance trap. Especially one with Rob Wilkins. I am just here to see him so that I can see for myself that I am not attracted to him any more.

I'm here to get over Rob Wilkins and move on with my life.

Seriously, I'm twenty-three and I need to start getting involved in another serious relationship and go on with my life. Just like the way Celine Dion suggested that one Rose girl do in _Titanic _in her song _My Heart Will Go On._ Not that Rob had died or anything like Jack did, but still.

Only things didn't exactly go the way I planned it to.

Because when I got to Rob's house—you know, to ask his mother where he lives now since he probably moved out of his _mother's_ house by now—rung the doorbell, and Mary saw me, it looked like she was about to have a heart attack. I am not kidding you.

"Oh, my God. Jess…" she gasped.

At first, I thought she was just surprised that I was at her doorstep seven years after her son and I broke up, but I found out differently after she went, "You can't be here! Rob's in New York looking for you!"

Oh, my God. Total "Friends" flashback was the first thing that popped into my head. You know that one episode where Ross goes to London to find Emily, but Emily was in America, trying to find Ross? Yeah, exactly.

And knowing my lifelong search for irony, you could just image how pleased I was. Not. So not.

"How does he know I'm in New York? How do you know I'm in New York? The only person who knows where I am is Douglas!" I said. Okay, screeched.

Mary's voice was calmer and more soothing. "Rob went to your parents' house to ask where you were because he said that he to see you. And after three days of just standing outside your house, Douglas told him where you were. And then Rob came over to see me and ask for advice on how he should confront you. I'm sorry."

Serious headache alert. _Serious headache alert._ "Oh, you shouldn't be," although Douglas was going to have to look up to look down when I got done with him. "You know, I should, um, go."

Just as I was about stepping off the porch of Mary's house, she called out my name.

When I turned around expectantly, she said, "Please don't push him away, Jess. He still has feelings for you and if this means anything, he's had a terrible seven years without you. He's been miserable. He needs you."

I nodded. "I honestly can't promise you anything right now, Mary, because I don't know how I feel about him right now. I think I'm in love with him, but…it's been seven years."

She just smiled at me and said, "Good luck, Jess. Bye, dear."

Since I was in town, I decided to go and visit my family…and beat up Doug for what he did to me. Well, not literally, but you know what I mean.

The reactions that I got from my family were more than satisfactory.

I mean, my mother was practically hysterical, but in a good way. I guess.

And Douglas was especially nice to me since he was trying to suck up for what he did. _Ahem. _He even offered to drive me back to the airport and also giving me Rob's cell phone number so that I could be in touch with him.

But I wasn't going to call Rob; I instead, I called Cecelia to tell Rob that he should just stay at my apartment for right now. She has the keys.

Not because I don't think I can bear to hear his voice right now or anything, but because I think it'd be best if we could talk in person.

So then I had to take a plane back to New York after Doug dropped with off at the airport, telling to me "be safe" and whispering in my ear, "don't mess this up."

Since when had he been all pro-Rob? Jeesh.

Something about planes you should know.

Its ticket is ridiculously expensive.

It's no joke buying one of them. It costs a lot of money. I mean, I know I make a lot—_a lot_—working for the FBI and all, but it's not like I throw my money everywhere. I like to save up on money, so that I could afford to send my kid off to college or something.

But I knew I was spending my money on something that was totally worth it.

And I couldn't help but think that anything for Rob is worth it.

* * *

_New York:_

Another thing about planes. They make me kind of grumpy.

So that was why I decided that I was going to go to a fast food restaurant to pick up a burger to lighten up my mood. I mean, while I do not think I would want to be romantically involved with Rob again, I didn't want to repulse him or anything.

And I was also buying myself time.

Seriously, it was going to be the first time I've seen him in seven years; I wanted to make a good impression, and not make him think that I've turned into this complete freak after I left Indiana.

I had made up a speech on the plane and all, but I had completely forgotten that speech when we hit a turbulence so I was buying time—I had spent, three seventy five to be exact—to make up a new speech.

Although it turned out that the speech I made up was completely for nothing—like the first little speech—because when I opened the door to apartment, all my old feelings came rushing back causing me to forget everything.

Exactly like the way I felt when I saw him seven years ago.

"Rob."

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_So what did you think? Good, bad, fine? Please review for me. Please, please, please, please, please?_

_Oh, and by the way, in the next chapter, I'm going to write in some fluff, though I'm thinking that it probably won't be as long as this chapter. _

_And also note that I usually do not put up two chapters in one day._

_Heidi _


	3. Faded Feelings

_Nicole—I'm apologize if I sounded demanding. I just wanted to know that there were at least five people who cared enough to comment in return for my work on this story. _

_MG (__Mediatorgrrl)__—Well, I don't know if I'm going to be able to put up two chapters per day because school is starting soon for me and I'll be busy, but I'll try my best. _

_Emma—Sorry about that. I know it's supposed to be soul, but it was a complete typo and I changed it. Thank you for bring that to my attention. _

_NayClem—Thank you, that is so sweet._

Just so you so, I have outlined this whole story—so sorry, I'm a complete neat freak—and it is going to end up being eight chapters long—with an ending that I'm sure you're going to hate me for—and with a sequel—that will _not_ make you want to haunt me down and kick my ass.

Oh, and also in the next chapter, you're going to read about that one thing no one knows about "except the guys at the hospital," along with _major_ fluffage, because I don't think the minor amount of fluff in this chapter will be satisfactory to you.

**Faded Feelings**

Now, I don't want you to think that all reunions are like the ones that you read in books, you know, with the exclamations—Oh, my God! It's so good to see you, I missed you so much!—and the flinging of arms around necks, because they're not.

You would think that I would have so much pent up emotion for this man that I haven't seen in so long and claimed to have loved—and also have claimed to love, as in present tense—but interestingly, I don't. Have any pent up emotions, I mean.

The emotions that have rushed up to my brain?

Yeah, those just sort of reachedmy brainand slide back down to their normal positions. Sort of like that one carnival game. Whatever that one is called. You know, the one where you bang a hammer against this metal plate as hard as you can and this little yellow—or red—thing in a huge thermometer looking object goes up and slides back down?

Yeah, it was sort of like that.

But apparently, I was in the minority—half-ority, really, since there were only two of us to begin with, since Cecelia slipped out the door the moment I walked through it—because the next thing I knew I was being snatched up off the ground by a set of arms and being kissed like there was no tomorrow.

And the first thing that came to my mind was: Wow.

Really, _wow. _

Seriously. I may not be sure about my feelings towards this guy, but I was sure about one thing: I had missed this.

I had missed being kissed with so much emotion and passion that came straight from the heart and _not _from a certain part of the male anatomy.

I had also missed those lips, those soft, soft lips.

And also that body.

Honestly, you _do not_ want me to start talking about that body and those abs. Trust me.

While what Mary said may have been true_—_that he had been in misery without me_—_he certainly hadn't slacked off when it came to the phsyical health department, because those washboard abs were every bit as hard as I had remembered them to be.

Then I felt those calloused fingers creeping_—_for a loss of a less cliché verb_—_up my blouse_—_a blouse, that may I mention, had sat through not one, but two sweaty plane rides. Talk about disgusting_—_and dip into my bra...

And then I felt it. Another thing that was hard besides his abs_—_oh, and pecs. You know, that part of the male anatomy that I was talking about earlier.

Yeah...

So I pushed him away. Not because I wasn't enjoying it. Oh, I was enjoying every single part of it.

But it wouldn't be right, becauseI don't know if I loved him anymore.

Now that I come to think ofit, itsort of went how I planned it to be, actually. You know, how I wanted to see him just to prove that I didn't love him anymore.

Except instead of feeling _I am so over him,_ I felt confused.

You know how people always talk about mixed feelings? Yeah, I had that plus faded feelings.

What I felt towards Rob was a little bit of every emotion. I didn't have any _strong_ emotions towards this guy. Not anymore.

"Rob, we need to talk," I said, after I caught my breath. It's no joke being kissed for a long period of time. It's really sort of like running. You know, you run for a mile and then you need a little cool downtime to walkso that your muscles won't feel so sore.

I motioned for him to sit down beside me on the couch.

He nodded and sat.

"Look, Rob. I went to look for you in Indiana, because I wanted to get over you," okay, starting a little too harshly, don't you think, Jess? "not because I wanted to get back with you."

He winced.

Okay, two malevolent comments in a row, not a very pleasing way to start a conversation. Really. I didn't know if I loved the guy anymore, but I didn't want to hurt him.

"I'll admit that what we had seven years ago was great. There is no denying it. But we went seperate paths. We didn't want the same thing."

Rob just looked at me. Expressionless.

Oh, come on. Give me something to work off of, will you?

"But sometimes I can't help wondering what would have happened if we hadn't broke up," I said, honestly not understanding where I was getting at with this.

So I turned the spotlight over to him_—_or as the AV geeks from high school would say backstage "point the cameraat angle 4A!"_—_by saying, "Now, you go."

He swallowed and sucked in a breath of air. "As you said before, we wanted different things, but that was before. But now it's different."

I gave him a questioning look.

"Because I'm willing to do whatever you want to win you back."

Oh, wow. Oof.

I smiled at him. "You have no idea how great it would have been to hear those words seven years ago. But now it's different." I said, quoting off of him. "Everything's different. _I'm _different. My feelings for you have faded dramatically to the point that even _I _don't understand what I feel about you."

Really, since when had I became the _cold blooded beast_? I swear, that is so not how it was supposed to come out.

And Rob had let me know just how cold I was and how muchhewas hurt by what I had said.

Oh, no. Not by telling me so or anything, although that would have made me feel a lot less guilty.

No. He just looked at me. Yes, just looked at me with the saddest pair of eyes. Those foggy blue eyes.

That's when I knew I had done it. _I am a terrible person. _

So I tried to fix it. "You have to understand that this type of stuff takes time, but I'm willing to _try_ to fall in love with you again, but everything is up to you." I grinned. "Time to turn your charm on, mister."

He smiled back at me.

But the next thing that I said made his smile dissappear. I know, I am totally going to hell. "But we're going to set a time frame. I don't know about you, but I personally do not like to dawdle upon matters that I have been dawdling upon for the past seven years, because if this_—_you and me_—_wasn't meant to be, I_—_we_—_need to move on with our lives."

Rob nodded reluctantly.

"So, does two months sound good to you?"

His beautiful face crumpled in distaste. "Two months. Mastriani. . ." But after receiving a hey-I'm-not-the-one-who-wants-to-get-back-together look from me, he said, "Okay. Two months it is."

After a moment of silence, he asked, "Kiss to seal the deal?"

I laughed and replied, "Okay." And leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips, and then turned it into a hug.

Suddenly,I remembered something. Somethingquite important. Iwhispered into his right ear, "You still own me something."

He pulled back and asked, "What's that?"

"You still haven't told me that you love me."

He ran a hand through his hair. Nervous gestures. Omenous. Very omenous sign indeed. I _would_ do the "thoughful chin" thing, but that may seem a bit odd.

"Mastriani, I can't_—_"

I cut him off. Men and their excuses. I swear.

"Forget it, okay? Start unpacking your stuff in the guest room," I gestured to the room right next to mine, "and what do you do now?"

Rob, seeming surprised by the question, asked, "What do I _do_ now?"

I looked up at him, "Yeah, what's your job? Occupation?"

"Oh, got into medicine after you left. I work as a first year ophthalmologist up at the Riley Hospital in Indianapolis." (a/n: I'm sorry, but I have no idea how long eye training takes, but please just bear with me on this)

I was impressed. Rob, medical school. Really? But the title Dr. Wilkins does sound so great.

"Huh. I can go talk to some of the guys at the office. I think Johnson's son is the department head for eye at the city hospital. I can try to get you an on-call doctor job for these two months, since I have a job, too, and you won't be able to exactly help me or anything," I informed him as I stood up to call Krantz to say that I would back to work by the next day.

"What is it?" He wanted to know.

"FBI agent," I told him. Guiltily, may I add.

Rob nodded and seemed to take it in pretty well. Better than my family did when they found out, anyway.

"I'll see you in the morning," I told him, since it was about nine and there was going to be a long day at work tomorrow—a two hour questioning from Cecelia comes to mind—and headed to my room.

"Jess?" he called out, just as I was about to enter my room. "I just want you to know that my feelings for you haven't change throughout all these years, and that they never will."

I nodded. _I know, Rob._ I thought to myself _I can see it in your eyes.

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What do you think? Too much dialogue. Need a bit more narration? Whatever it is, please tell me. I'm open to anything, suggestings, criticism, etc. Please just tell me what you think, because I need to know so that I could make this story more enjoyable to my readers._

Heidi


	4. The Secret Reveals

_You know how I told you that there'd be eight chapters? Yeah, I reorganized some thoughts throughout the weekend and it would actually make more sense if there were nine chapters, so I redid my outline and made it so that this story would be nine chapters long._

_And I'd also like to apologize to those of you who thought Jess was unkind to Rob, she has a good reason, which you will find out in this chapter. Seriously, she does have a good reason. I swear. Oh, and also I was attempting to make it so that Jess was only being mean to Rob because she was afraid that if she wasn't, she was going to go through the whole romance trap thing all over again, but I guess that didn't come out too well. _

**_Also, please forgive me and this chapter, as fluff is not my thing. I'm really better at writing emotional dialogue_**—**_according to my mother at least_**—**_than fluff. _**

_Heidi_

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Disclaimer: I only own the plot and the new characters, everything else goes to Meg Cabot.

**_Warning, this chapter is rated a medium-high T!_**

**The Secret Reveals**

As I had predicted the day before, the minute I stepped into my office at work the next morning, Cecelia cornered me.

"So," she said conversationally, though she practically giddy for some odd reason, "What's up with the guy?"

"Rob? Oh, nothing," I replied, playing her card and trying to be nonchalant, and picked up a file.

I felt her just looking at my back. She sauntered up beside me and put an arm around me in a way that I guess was supposed to be chummy, but since I'm assuming she's never done that before—really, like, _ever_—it ended being kind of awkward.

"Seriously, Jess. You can tell me. I know you're faking it. Come on, you want to tell me. I can see it written all over your face."

"There's nothing to say," I told her, taking the file over to my computer.

She rolled her eyes, "Jess, this is the Rob that broke you down. The Rob that you told me three days ago was your soul mate. You can't tell me there's nothing."

I turned around in my chair, looked up at her and said, "I'm telling you, _there's nothing to say."_

She ignored me and pushed on, "Let me get you started, where's he now?"

"I am not being taken in for questioning, Cecelia Harp," I said tiredly. And I knew that even though I was hiding from these questions now, she would end up knowing sooner or later. Cecelia has been in the business for eight years and has an ass that won't quit.

"Okay, tell me this then," she voice became soft and not demanding anymore. "How do you feel towards him?"

Oh, ew.

Why do people always feel compelled to ask that question?

"I don't know."

She gave me "_the_ eyeball" which I know she only uses when she wants people to tell her the absolute truth. Trust me; no one can lie to "_the_ eyeball."

"I'm telling you the truth, Cee, I really don't know how I feel about Rob Wilkins anymore," I told her.

But apparently, she didn't believe me because she sighed and went, "You want to play the hard way? Okay. Let's. You, Rob, Gary,"—who was her boy toy at the moment and works in the forensics department—"and I have lunch today."

I looked at her in mock fiery, "I have a life outside of the FBI, you know." Which was a complete lie, because I totally do not.

And she knew it. "So, lunch at twelve, table by the swings? Okay? Okay. You make the call to Rob, I'll get Gary."

So, with that, I was officially having lunch with Cecelia, her boyfriend, and Rob. Lovely.

The first meal I have with Rob in seven years was with my best friend and her boyfriend. Isn't _that_ nice?

* * *

As the clock struck twelve, and the little coo-coo bird came out for its hourly coo-coo, I headed down to the main entrance. 

I had called Rob at home—since I hadn't drawn up a file for Rob and given it to Lewis Johnson to give to his son yet—and told him to walk over to the FBI building—don't worry, I told him step-by-step directions on how to get here. Oh, directions that he was not thankful for to say the least. Actually his response was, "Mastriani, I'm not like you, okay?"—, where I would be waiting to sign him in.

Rob was on time. I signed him in and lead him to the cafeteria.

While we walked, I thought about taking his hand, but that wouldn't be appropriate, would it? I mean, after I'd been all tough yesterday, I couldn't just soften, could I? Because then, wouldn't all that resisting from Rob, being all cold to him, and feeling completely guilty for doing so go to waste?

Or maybe I should take his hand _because_ I'd been so mean to him yesterday. You know, to make up for it.

But before I got a chance to do anything, we arrived at the cafeteria where Cecelia and Gary were already waiting for us. They waved us over.

Cecelia stood up and said to me, "You made it on time for once," while I glared at her.

After making uneasy—because a _certain_ person wouldn't let go of Rob after giving him a hello hug—introductions, we all sat and Gary went to place the orders at the counter.

Then there was a moment of silence. And not because we were praying or anything. No,but because no one knew what to say.

"Seven years, huh? That's a long time," Cecelia commented, breaking the dead silence at our table.

Duh. It's almost a decade.

Only, I didn't say so out loud, because it's hard to say _anything _to a statement like that.

And that was how the rest of the lunch went. You know, awkwardly.

I mean, once or twice, Rob and I would bump elbows, which according to _Cosmo_ was how electricity between two people was sometimes conducted, but even that was awkward.

By the time we were finished with lunch, I was totally thinking:

Note to self, NEVER LET YOUR BEST FRIEND TALK YOU INTO HAVING LUNCH WITH HER BOYFRIEND AND HERSELF WITH YOU AND YOUR EX

* * *

When Rob and I were done with lunch, had bid our goodbyes, and were walking away, Rob asked me, "When do you get off work?" 

I thought about this for a moment. "I can go right now, actually. Krantz told me that I didn't really have to come today, anyway, because we just finished this huge psycho-killer case."

That seemed to strike Rob's interest. "Krantz as in _Cyrus_ Krantz? The guy who got shot in the leg at that True American's place?"

I chuckled inwardly. He still remembered after all these years. "Yes, he was," and then I added become I couldn't help it, "But he at least he wasn't the guy who got hit in the head by a mashed potato bowl."

And instantly felt remorse for what I had said. It's like when I'm around him, I don't know how to say human-like things anymore. "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay," he said, shrugging it off.

I shook my head, "No, it isn't. You got hit in the head and were in so much pain because of _me_. And I, well I have been nothing but nasty to you about it. You know, now that I think of it, I don't think that I've officially thanked you for _everything _that you had done for me. Here, how about, I'll get my stuff from my office, we'll go home, and I'll make up to you."

When he looked at me, sort of excitedly, I knew what I said didn't exactly come out right, so I added, "With a massage or something."

His face fell.

I honestly need to start acting warm-blooded again.

Maybe a hot bath would help sooth my frazzled nerves.

Ah, the bubbles. The bath salts. Rob's washboard abs.

Okay, dangerous territory. Very dangerous territory.

Even though I told him that I was going to try to get my feelings for him back. I didn't want to do it that way, you know? I wanted to reconnect not as much physically but more emotionally.

As we were walking past the security gate, I flashed my badge at the nice gate people—whose names I seriously need to start learning—and Robasked to me, "Don't you ever get the feeling that right now is a total role reversal of seven years ago?"

I looked up at him—I'd grow a few inches since my junior year of high school, but that's really not saying much—and asked, "How so?"

"Before, you were always trying to get me to go out with you—"

I stopped walking andstared at him, "Right, just keep bringin' it up. That'll help you."

He smiled at what I said, though I was completely serious. But I let that go and let him continue with what he was saying.

"Sorry, but what I was going to say is, that now I'm trying to get you to go out with me again. Don't you ever feel that reverse?"

I furrowed my eyebrows in concentration. "You know, I don't think it's the 'role reversal' exactly, because the situation before was simple—well, simpler. What we have now is extremely complex."

"Really," he said in a manner that was between a question and a statement, making it hard to decide if I should put a comma or question mark after that word.

"Yes. More complicated than someone being on probation and refusing to go out with a sixteen-year-old girl who was madly in love with him."

And before he could say anything, I said, "Yet was willing to blow up a helicopter."

He said nothing.

We walked for a few blocks until we were at the street where the apartment building that held the apartment I was renting was, and I got a thought. Well, a question really.

"Rob, something that I've never understood was the fact that before, when we were in our 'non-relationship' thing, you always told me that you wouldn't go out with me because I was sixteen and could get you into serious trouble with your parole officers if we went out."

He nodded, urging me to go on.

I did. "Then, why didn't you fight for me?"

Rob looked puzzled. "Fight for you?"

"Yes. Fight for me. When I finally turned seventeen, when we had that awful fight. If you claimed to have really had feelings for me," I said, slyly getting past the _l_ word, "why didn't you fight for me? Because when I turned seventeen, we actually could legally date . . .and stuff," and then I added, because I couldn't help it (well, that, and thought it was totally ridiculous), "I mean, you fought for me—us—when I was sixteen and couldn't even go out with you without getting you into a tremendous amount of trouble, anyway. Why didn't you do it when we could actually _legally_ go out?"

But when he looked troubled, I said, "You know what? I don't want to know. Besides, we're home, and are in a serious need of subject changing."

Once I unlocked the door, let both of in, changed into my "apartment" clothes, and rinsed off my face, I said, walking out ofthe bathroom, to Rob, "Okay. I'm going to make all you've been through, you know, all the missing people you helped me get to, with me up to you. So, what do you want? A massage, using me as a target to kick box, perhaps? Anything." Since I had promised him something and all.

Rob just looked up at me from where he was sitting on the couch and said, "All I want is you."

Okay . . .

I thought I had already vetoed that—sort of—but I guess that didn't sink in too well into his brain.

He swept me off the floor—sort of like how he did it the day before, only this time . . .—and placed me and the couch, got on top of me and started kissing me.

And I swear, he did that all in the time frame of about three seconds.

All I have to say is: How could I resist? Honestly, _how?_

It's hard enough to keep myself from kissing the hell out of him when he's not even touching me, but now that he was kissing me and pressed up so close to me? How do I resist?

Bad Jess. Remeber, you do not want to reconnect with him this way.

Except that I apparently did.

Or my body did anyway. Because the next thing I knew, I was pushing myself against him, and my nipples were turning hard against his touch when his hands started to wander around again.

This time I didn't push him away.

I moaned against his lips as he started to massage both of them, and felt him smile against my lips.

So, I guess my satisfaction was his, too, now isn't it?

And my own hands strayed away from his neck and began testing the muscles on his chest.

Then, he began lifting myshirt—tank top, really—up off of me.

In addition to needing help being a warm-blooded person—which didn't seem to be a problem at that moment—I also need self control help miserably, I realized as I just let him take my purple tank top off of my body.

He then trailed kisses all down my neck, down my chest, and when he came to my breasts, he unhooked my bra quickly—wonder when he'd mastered that art—and threw it down on the floor by my tank top, and began sucking on the twins—which is a phrase that I have never used before, by the way.

"_Rob..." _came a voice from my throat that was very unlike my voice.

After he felt that he had spent enough time there, he continued to trail kissing all down my stomach until he reached my pants.

When he began undoing those—the buttons to my pants—it was like somebody had come and poured ice water downby back,because I broke out of whatever world I was in—probably, the land where Jessica Mastriani stopped being realistic—and stopped him with a reluctant, "No, Rob, stop."

And he stopped to look up at me. "What's wrong?"

I bit my lip and said, "I don't think we should do this."

He nodded. "Okay."

As I pickedup my bra and put it back on, I said to him, "It's not that I didn't like what you were doing. I did," I blushed as I said that, "But there's just something you need to know."

I got up and picked up my purple tank top off of the floor as Rob just looked at me confusedly.

I put it back on and said told him that thing that no one except me and some of the guys at the hospital in Indiana had ever known, "I was pregnant with your child."

I watched in fascination as Rob's eyes widened until it was about the size of two oranges.

"I . . .How?"

A dirty look was all that he got.

"You can't mean that night at the after the reopening of Mastriani's," he said, looking incredulous.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yet I do mean that night. What other night was there?"

He still looked confused—which, may I point out looks way hot on him. "But we used protection."

I laughed in spite of the situation. "I know you didn't pay much attention during your health classes, Wilkins, but did you honestly not hear the health teacher say that the only way to be 100 percent sure of avoiding STDs and unwanted pregnancy is abstinence?"

Rob seemed to think about this for and moment and asked that dreaded question, "So what about the baby?"

I bit my inner cheek and replied, "I lost it."

"You got an abortion?" Now he looked perplexed and sort of angry, although he had absolutely no right to be. In my opinion, anyway.

"No, of course not. I would never do that."

"Then, what happened to it?"

I looked at him, meeting his eyes for the first time that day. "You know how I got into a car accident after I left your place after our fight?"

He nodded. And then, slowly, apprehension dawned upon his face.

"Yeah, at that time, I was three weeks pregnant and because the car behind me collided against my car with so much impact," my voice broke, "I lost it. I didn't tell anyone about it until now."

And with that, everything became blurry to me.

Rob took my head in this arms said into my hair, "I'm sorry. If I hadn't been so stubborn in my ways, maybe we would have a six year old child right now, but why didn't you tell me about you being pregnant?"

I sniffled. "I didn't know until it was gone."

He held me tighter and pulled me on to his lap.

"Didn't your parents know about you losing the baby?"

I shook my head. "No, I begged the people at the hospital not to tell my parents."

I looked up at him. "But maybe it was meant to be that way, you know? Because if I had had the baby you wouldn't have gotten a career in ophthalmology, and I probably wouldn't have had time to go through FBI training and have my job here."

After a moment of comfortable silence, he smiled down at me.

When I asked him why he was smiling, he answered, "Couldn't you just pictured the look on your mom's face if you told her you were pregnant, with _my_ child?"

I laughed.

And remembered why I was so in love with this man seven years ago.

Why I was in love with him now.

* * *

_So, what did you think of this one? I know it was sort of slow going on the beginning, but I though it ended okay. Right? Or did you think that I should I written in more element? _

_Oh, and also, I have broken my personal record. 3167 words! Yay! I know you can't see me or anything, but I'm totally doing a long chapter dance right now. _

**Need Opinions: Do you think I should continuethree or fourmore chapters of Rob/Jess romance before I go on to the "criminal scenes/turning point of the story" or should I just do one or two more chapters and then go on with the plot? What do you think? Because if I just do one or two more chapters, I'm going to be skipping a few days in between, and if I do more chapters, I can actually write all the days out (but then I'd have to redo my outlines again). **_**Please tell me what you think. **_

_Oh, that, and review. :-)_

_Heidi_


	5. The Rain and the Flashback

_XXdestinedXXforXXpainXX**—**Thank you very much for reviewing. And now, about the spacing thing. When I upload the chapter from Microsoft word, it still has the spaces, but sometimes, from my computer to the internet, some of the words get squeezed together. And I don't really think there's much I can do about that. _

_Mediatorgrrl—Thank you so much for the comments, they really made my day. Oh, and yeah, I would _never_ have someone have an abortion. NEVER. But I think I'm going to do about two more chapters of this Jess/Rob romance thing before I move on._

_Mouchefly—Aw, thank you. I liked that chapter, too. _

_I know that I told some of you that I wasn't going to do a flashback chapter of how Jess and Rob broke up, but I think it would work in this chapter. _

_Heidi_

_Disclaimer: I only own the plot, the flashback, and the unknown characters._

**The Rain and Flashbacks**

"You cannot be serious," was the oh-so-heartfelt reply I got from Cecelia after I told her about what happened the day before. Well, everything except the whole baby fiasco.

"Why can't I be serious?" I inquired.

She stood up from the extra chair that she had pulled in front of my wheelie chair and placed two hands on my shoulders. "Consider what you're telling me, Jess."

I pretended to look thoughtful for a moment, and said, "Done thinking, but still doesn't know why I 'can't be serious'." I made air quotes around the last three words.

She took her hands off my shoulders since she apparently caught on to the death glares I was shooting at her hands—yes, after all these years, I still hate people touching me. Well, there's one person I wouldn't mind touching me, but, you know, I've never really believed in the whole fooling around in the office concept—and said, her eyeballs looking like they were about to pop out of her head, "Come on, Jess. At first, you feel _very_ indifferent of this guy who—_by the way_—practically tore your heart out of your chest, chucked it on to the floor, and made four dozen horses run over it, and now you're telling me that only after one heated make out session and intimate conversation, you're back in love with him? Is he really worth it?"

I bit my lip. I felt sort of desperate for some reason. You know, like I'm about to cry or something. Only, of course I wasn't going to cry. I'm Jessica Mastriani, one of the toughest FBI agents, _I don't cry_. "I'm beginning to think that he is. I mean, he's so sweet and caring and he knows what it takes to make me feel better."

Cecelia put both of her hand's middle and index finger to her temples andhissed through gritted teeth, "That was a rhetorical question. I didn't want an answer. And if he makes you 'feel better,'" she make air quotesthe way I did earlier, excepthers looked more like four hooks just itching to scratch someone's eyes out, "why did he make you feel like completecrap so many years ago?" Onlycrap wasn't the exact wording she chose to use.

Then it happened. Everything that had happened that night just all camescreaming back to me. That night. The atmosphere. The temperature that the stupid creepy unstable Indiana weather chose to be.

_I walked over to Rob with mug of the chocolate milkshake that I made forhim. Well, technically it was out of powder, but he doesn't need to know that, does he? _

_He turned around from the bike that he was fixing. When he saw me, his face visibly brightened. "Hey, Mastriani. Happy birthday." He gave me a quick peck on the cheek, but that was all that I had needed to be happy. _

_Rob sat us down two wooden chairs in the garage. I handed him his milkshake. He thanked me. _

"_I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your birthday party. I had to finish this family's car before they had to head off to Barbados," he said. _

_I shook my head. "No, it's okay. I totally understand. Though my party would be so much more fun with you around. Then instead of the one guest I had, the number would increase by another." _

_He laughed. It was great to hear it. I mean, it's not that he doesn't laugh a lot or anything, but it's just that whenever I hear his voice I just feel this tinge of excitement. It's a total side effect of being in love. _

"_And besides," I added, smiling, "it's not like we don't have the rest of our lives together." _

_His laughter faded,and helooked at me. _

_Afraid that I may have said something wrong, I asked, "What?" _

_He took a deep breath. Like he was about to say something that he knew he would regret or something. _

Oh, my God, _I thought, _Is he going to break up with me? What had I done? Was it that thing with the kid in Albany? I swear I hadn't meant for his mother to find out and go all wacko on me and have a heart attack. That wasn't part of the plan.

"_Jess," he said. He is going to break up with me; he's even using my first name. "We've been going out for about two years now." Okay, not exactly breakup lingo. But not something you'd say when you want to jump your girlfriend either. "And I think it's time that we talk about the future a bit." _

_Phew. Okay. It's just _the talk_ I can fully handle this. "Right. Fine, so should I start or do you want to?" _

"_Either way is fine," he said, shrugging those broad, strong shoulders. _

_Just then, I got an exigent question that could not wait another second. "You do see me in your future, don't you?" I didn't want to seem like one of those girls on television who are always going, "If this relationship has no future, I don't see why we would see each other anymore." Except, that I apparently did. To Rob, anyway. _

_Since he went, looking sort of annoyed, "Of course." _

_Ignoring his expression of annoyance, I asked, "So what do you see in store for Rob and Jess, say, ten years from now?"_

_He looked thoughtful for a moment and then answered, with a dazed look on his face, "I see us, married with two kids, a girl and a boy with two dogs. And we'd be living in a nice house upstate—because the schooling districts are obviously better than the one around here—with a huge yard where our kids could play. We'd both have steady jobs, but one of us would be home some of the times to take care of kids . . .and we'd live happily ever after." _

_I nodded. I like that. Except one thing…_

"_When you said upstate, which upstate did you mean? Upstate Connecticut, upstate California, upstate New York?" _

_Rob looked at me strangely. "No, upstate Indiana. What did you expect?" _

_My face stiffened and I said in a firm voice, "I expected more." _

_He twisted his face into aodd shape that reminded me of a dried up orange. "More?" _

_I nodded. Feelingreally agitated, which is,of course, something that I think I'll never grow out of no matter how much detention I get in or how much counseling I receive from Mr. Goodhart oranyone else."Yes. More, because unlike you I want to get out of this hick town and out of this unindustrialized state where the most exciting thing is the Indy 500s! And while I like racing, it's not like they're ever going to hold the Olympics here or anything." _

"_But this is the place where we grew up." _

_I took a deep breath, took his hands in mine, and smiled, attempting to calm myself. "You're right. It's the place we grew up in, but I want to get away from this place. I didn't have what you would call good memories here." I let go of his hands and threw mine in the air. "I want to travel the world! See different sites. Try out new things. And I—we—can't do that in Indiana, because let's face it, this town is as boring as…It's not as exciting as other places."_

"_Jess, this place may not be all that exciting but it's home." _

_Suddenly, I wasn't feeling just agitated anymore, I felt a flame starting to build up inside me. "It may be home, but it can't be home forever!" I exclaimed. And when Rob tried to say something, I cut him off before a word even left his lips. "Just listen to what I'm trying to say here, Rob. I don't want to stay in this place where nothing can happen. For crying out loud, this is one of the only places terrorists do not want to attack because it's so incredibly dull, it wouldn't be worth it!" _

_Rob looked at me incredulously. "And being in a terrorist-free environment is unsatisfactory to you? Let's gain some perspective here—"_

_Now the flame that was there turned into a wild forest fire just by those last five words. "Perspective? You want me to gain some perspective? Okay, now let's talk about that, shall we? There may be reasons behind why I can't gain any perspective. Have you thought about those? I mean, one," I held up a finger, "my boyfriend who, by the way, I have slept with, hasn't even told me he loves me," I raged with a sardonic smile on my face. _

"_Two," I said in that same tone with the same expression on my face and I held up another finger, "Above mentioned boyfriend has been trying to push me out of his life ever since we started our very strange 'relationship'," I made air quotes around the word relationship, "and had just let me into his life only after six months of my nagging." Okay, so that wasn't exactly true. But really, who cared at a time like this? _

"_Oh, and did I mention?" I raged on, not caring that Rob is looking at me expressionlessly, plus the fact that it looked as if all the blood had drained from his face, and in addition to that, I had noticed some new veins on Rob's forehead that I hadn't noticed before, "Said boyfriend just told me that he wanted to stay in this goddamn state for the rest of his life?"_

"_Also," I laughed bitterly as I felt a tear roll down my cheek, "if that's not enough," my voice broke, "I have been chased by these sons of bitches from the FBI since I got this stupid _gift_ that—" _

"_Mastriani, _enough,"_ Rob boomed out to me. _

_It was the first time that Rob had raised his voice at me. Ever. To tell you the truth, I was scared. I was _very_ scared. He looked mad. And disgusted. Not the normal about of disgust that he shows on his face whenever he smiles at me either. _

_But a type of disgust that was caused by antipathy. _

"_I don't want to hear about anymore of your complaints. If you're so unsatisfied with me, then why are we still…us?" _

_My jaw dropped. "Are you breaking up with me?" _

_He ran a hand through his hair. And I noticed that his hand was shaking. Violently shaking. "No, I don't want to break up with you. It's just that I have a feeling that you're not going to change your mind about the future, and I don't want to either, and I just think…I just think that…"_

_But before I could hear about what he thought, I spat words that I knew I would regret for the rest of my life. "You know what? I don't care anymore. I just don't care. If you really even have to pause to _think_ about how you want things to work out between us, if you even have to _think_ about how to feel about me and what we have. It's over. I'm going. Good bye, Rob." _Forever, _I thought. _

_And stormed out. _

Now, instead of feeling desperate, I was feeling a bitirritated over this whole business. Not exactly at Cecelia, but at myself for thinking about that horrible evening. But as Mr. Goodhart used to say, I have problems expressing my anger. "Cecelia, what do you have against him? Last night you called me and told me that you thought he was a wonderful person!" I screamed, feeling seriously grateful over the fact that all offices are soundproofed.

She sighed and a moment of silence fell upon us. "You know what? I'm really sorry, honey. It's just that you're my best friend. I've actually never really had such a close friend before, ever. And I guess I just sometimes get a bit overprotective of you." Cecelia held her arms out and smiled.

She looked pretty when she smiled, which wasn't often, now that that I think of it. But when she does—smile, I mean—she lights up the whole room with her snow white teeth, rosy cheeks, shiny brown eyes, and glossy red curls. Even though she's in her mid-thirties, she still looks very attractive.

I got up off of my chair and hugged her. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you."

When we pulled out of our hug, Cecelia scooted the chair that she was sitting in back into its little corner by the photocopier and said, "We'd better get back to work or else Krantz may have an apoplexy."

Just as she was about to cross over the threshold of my office she turned around and said, "Jess, can you do me a favor?"

I looked up from the file I was inspecting, nodded, and replied, "Anything."

"Go out on a date with this guy, see if he's changed. Really talk to him, see what he's been up to _and then_ decide whether you should get back with him or not. Please. I just don't you back the way you were when you first joined our team."

After a moment of hesitation, I agreed.

* * *

As Rob walked into the apartment, where I was still trying to decide what to wear, I greeted him with a hello, a kiss—nothing too big, just a peck on the lips—and a "We're going out to dinner today." 

He seemed content with that and asked, "So, is it a date?"

"If you want to think of it that way," I answered with a silly grin on my face, because of course it was a date. I do not usually like to go out to eat unless it's a) my father's restaurant, which is in Indiana, not New Yorkor b) it's a date with someone I really liked, you know, romantically.

When he just stood there in the middle of the living room, I commanded, "Go get changed, this restaurant is a very fancy place."

He pretended to look offended. "Hey. I changed for work today. I didn't want the patient with the eye infection's eye to get more infectious looking at a doctor who was wearing jeans and a t-shirt to work."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, allow to me rephrase my sentence. While your blue button down shirt and khaki pants are very nice and all, they do nothing for your form." I strolled forward until I was directly in front of him, put both of my hands on his chest and whispered, "Something nicer may make your wildest fantasies come true," raising my eyebrows suggestively.

Rob shivered. "Really," he said in that same between-a-question-and-a-statement-tone, and gulped. Hard. Which wasn't the only thing of his that was hard at the moment if you know what I mean.

Honestly, say hello to Dr. Wilkins.

I've still got it. And now I will be doing my victory dance.

Actually, I didn't do any dances indicating my victory over Rob. Instead, I just meandered back into my room…_looking_ victorious and feeling that my ego had just been boosted about forty notches.

Although I do hope that _that_ goes away by the time we head out because it may be a bit embarrassing to walk around with a man who is, um, engorged.

Anyway, approximately fifteen minutes later, I had put together and put on a fabulous outfit which consisted of my dark red dress—yes, I know, big surprise here, Jessica Mastriani in a full-length dress—black heels and a white gold necklace with a ruby pendent.

I was about to put on makeup when there was a knock at my door.

"Come in," I hollered to Rob.

I heard the door open behind me and the soft footsteps of Rob walking over to the mirror at which I was putting on makeup.

He slipped his armed around my waist from behind, and said, "You look beautiful tonight."

I turned around and looked him up and down, whilst noticing that a certain someone wasn't gone yet. I grinned inwardly. "You don't look bad, either." And turned around to finish putting on mascara.

From the reflection of the mirror, I saw Rob frown.

"What's wrong? Why so glum, chum?" I asked, using the same line I had used in his house when we were in our 'non-relationship.'

Rob shook his head. "It's nothing, really. It's just that…"

"What?" I asked, not liking that I didn't know what was going on,

"I don't like it that you're putting makeup on."

I stopped mid-stroke and turned around again. Really, only if people had four pairs of eyes, one on both sides of their heads. That would seriously make things easier in more than one way.

"What's wrong with my makeup?" I asked, "Did I make myself look too hookerish again?"

"No, you look fine," he said, trying to find the right words like if he didn't I would punch him or something. Really, like I'd ever punch _him_ now that I think I may possibly be in love with him. Again."You just looked better without it."

I snorted and turned around. "Yeah, right. I'm so sure."

But just after I'd put my mascara back into my purse and pulled out eye shadow, he reached out and grasped my wrist. Not in a way that you grip someone's wrist to stop them from plummeting their fist into your eye or anything, but in more kind and gentle way.

"Mastriani, come on. Let's just go to dinner."

And I let him drag me out of the apartment. Which reminded me that back when I was still best friends with Ruth, she would totally be going, "Feminist rights violation." Not that I'm enemies with Ruth now or anything, but we've definitely drifted apart given the way she reacted to my dropping by at her house when I went to look for Rob: nonchalantly.

Well, anyway, I locked up the apartment and we headed out.

"Tell me about this place," Rob said, conversationally while I dug around for my address book to make sure that we weregoing in the right direction. Even though I've been to Emilio's about four million times, I still couldn't remember whether I turn left or right on Bleecker Street.

"Um," I said, finally finding my address book and flipping through it, "It's a super fancy Italian restaurant. Oh, and when I say Italian I do not mean that American-Italian food that most restaurants serve. I mean _true, genuine_ Italian food. It's really good. And plus, their tables are all cute and semi-circly."

As I checked the address Rob asked, "Does this restaurant need reservations?"

Satisfied that I'd gotten the correct address, I said, "For normal people, yes. But the owner is one of my really close friends—actually, when I first came to New York, he was one of the first people I helped, because his daughter was kidnapped. After I found herwe got to talking and decided we were both very cool people—and he always leaves a table open for me. He even had Lightening Girl put on the table instead of a number, just for me. Emilio is a very sweet guy."

Rob was silent for a minute, and then he asked, "Do you like him?"

I said, totally oblivious of what he was _really_ asking, "Yeah, Emilio's the best. In fact, when I first moved here—"

"No," he interrupted, averting my steady gaze on his eye and staring at the concretesidewalk instead, "Do you _like _him…romantically?"

I laughed hysterically at that one. "Okay, Rob?" I said, still laughing, took both his hands in mine and stopped walking, "Emilio is forty-five and happily married. His children are in college."

Rob blushed and attempted to preserve what was left of his dignity by saying, "Look, Jess, I—"

But I cut him off. "It's okay," I said, starting to walk again since there were gray clouds that looked about just one town away, "In fact, you have no idea how much it means to me that you care. Would it mean more if you said that you loved me? Yes." I continued before Rob got a chance to do any of this sad little explaining, "But for right now, I'll settle for this." And kissed him on the lips.

We were standing in front of Emilio's fifteen minutes. Just as we were about to enter, Emilio came out.

Not to greet us or anything, but apparently to go across the street to pick up something because there was a bakery across the street andhe was holding his wallet.

He was looking quite stressed for someone getting cake, but when he saw me, he brightened. "Look who's here, it's my favorite customer and best psychic!"

I flashed a smile at him. "Oh, Emilio. Please. You're going to spoil me with the compliments." Even though technically being the best psychic wasn't really a compliment seeing as how I'm probably the only psychic he knows in person.

"What brings you here today, Jess?" Emilio asked.

"Rob and I were just planning to have dinner."

Emilio looked troubled. The next words that came out of his mouth explained why. "Jessica,my sweetheart,I'm sorry, but my restaurant will be closed due to my niece's wedding. I was going to pick up the cake just now." He gestured with his wallet.

I brushed a hand in the air. "It's okay. Rob and I will go somewhere else. We'll be fine." And then I joked, "This is what I get for you spoiling for so much with the no-reservations thing. See?"

Emilio smiled at me and said, "You'd better get going, then. It looks like it's going to pour." And asif on cue, it started to rain.

I thanked Emilio and pulled Rob away from the restaurant.

"I think we should go back to your apartment," Rob suggested.

"Duh," I replied, and ran with Rob in tow towards my apartment.

As quickly as we ran, by the time we got back to my apartment, we were both soaked. See, this is what happens when you live in New York and don't drive your car out very often and hate to take cabs because chances are, the cab driver probably knows you as Lightening Girl—trust me, people's memories are not as bad as you might like to think—and want your autograph or want to kill you because you found their psycho killer friend and put him in jail.

Oh, and the fact that I was wearing my best dress and now it was going to be all rain waterish—which, may I remind you is evaporated sewage, waste water, and other disgusting types of liquid falling back down again—and is going to take a while to get it back to normal didn't help either.

Even though I was upset about my dress, I still had morals and knew it was completely my fault—actually, it was Cecelia's fault too, but whatever—that we were rained out because I didn't check with Emilio so I said to Rob, "I'm sorry about this whole rain thing. Really. Tonight was supposedly to be You and Me at a Romantic Dinner, Talking and Bounding Again. Not You and Me Outside Sprinting in the Freezing Rain."

Rob just smiled down at me and said, "It's okay, because I'm with you."

Why does he always have to know the right thing to say to make me practically melt into a puddle? _Why?_

"Thank you for understanding. I knew you would." I hugged him and instantly regretted it because by doing that, I ended up getting the two of us into a soggy clingy mess.

Rob laughed and said, "How about we both get dried upand I'll cook us some dinner."

"Okay."

So that's how, ten minutes later, Rob and I were sitting at the kitchen table both enjoying a bowl of fried rice each. Seriously. He _is_ the most perfect guy in the world. He' s hot, he'sclever, he's funny, and he's understanding. Whoever leaves him would be the biggest idiot on the planet.

Oh, wait. That would be me.

"When'd you learn how to cook?" I asked him, spooning a spoonful of rice into my mouth since I have a handicap when it comes to using chopsticks.

But Mr. Perfect's chopsticks skills, on the other hand, are sensational. He ate a chopstick full—for a lack of a better word—of rice off his chopsticks and replied, smirking, "I've always been able to cook, it's just that I'd rather have my mom do it for me."

I snorted. "Lazy ass."

"At least I'm not a restaurateur's daughter who can't cook to save her life," he said, shrugging.

"I can cook…mashed potatoes."

"From the mashed potato power mixture that you got from the grocery store ," he pointed out, earning a kick in the shin from me. He's lucky that I'd taken my shoes off by that point, or else he would have been in a lot more pain than he was then, judging by the way he flinched when I kicked him.

"I should never argue with you. You know me too well," I stated, and rolled by eyes.

"Well, I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. I don't know what's been going on since you moved here," he said, finishing up his rice and asking me if I was done.

"Yeah . . . Here, I'll do the dishes," I said, standing up to take his bowl and empty cup—it was just water, nothing alcoholic, wouldn't want history to repeat itself. Ahem, Mastriani reopening, ahem.

He also stood up, and he took his bowl so that I couldn't reach it. "No, I'll do the dishes, I'm sure you've hada hard day at work."

I put both my hands on my hip—which was something of a feat considering I didn't want to drop the ceramic bowl that I was holding with my right hand. "You were at work, too." Yes, I had faxed over his file the previous night to Lewis's son he loved it so he instantly called Rob over there this morning (a/n: I'm really sorry about this if they can't just hire someone like that without an interview, because I know nothing about the hiring of on-call ophthalmologists.).

Rob gave me one of those half-disgusted and half-amused smiles of his and said, "Mastriani, I'm sure solving crime and looking down someone's eye doesn't take the same about of effort."

"Fine, but at least let me help you," I said, giving up. I know, it's completely unlike me to give up a fight so easily, but with Rob, it actually felt like I was winning. Seriously.

We both walked over to the kitchen sink where Rob started to scrub the dishes while I began rinsing them.

"What've you been up to?" Rob acquired after a few minutes of companionable silence.

I shrugged. "Nothing, really. I mean, my life is pretty much revolved around the FBI. Besidesa few more friends I haven't really changed that much," I thought about this for a moment and added, "Except I did get a tattoo of a heart on my collarbone."

"Oh, really? That's cool," Rob said half-heartedly.

And then I commented, just to tease him, "I'm surprised you didn't see it yesterday."

The result immediately took action because just as I said that, color started creeping up Rob's face until it met his hairline. "Well, I…" Rob tried to explain.

I laughed, satisfied with my results. "It's okay. I like to think that there was something more important to focus on other than my tattoo."

Which just made Rob blush even more. Asunkind as it was, teasing Rob was kinda fun. I mean, the past two days he's been here, it's as if I don't know how to speak to him or act normally around him, and now that I could, it felt really nice.

As Rob picked up the last cup, he asked, "Can I see your tattoo?"

He scrubbed it and handed it to me to rinse. "Sure," I replied, rinsed the cup, put it into the cupboard, and pushed aside the t-shirt that I had changed into a bit at the collar.

Rob looked at it and squinted. "It's really sexy," he murmured.

I was startled. I mean, I knew it looked kind of nice and everything, but sexy? Wow. That, I had never heard used on this little guy. And by this little guy, I meant the heart. Not Rob. Rob was not a _little guy._

After I got over my shock, I said, grinning like an freak, "Thank you."

And even though Ihadn't exactlygot tolearn about what he's been up to the last fewyears that we'd been apart,that grin lasted the whole evening.

* * *

_So, what do you think? I'm sorry about the vagueness of the flashback. It's not that I was trying to make it really short or anything, but I, as a person, do not like to look back at anything, so flashbacks for me are really hard to write. _

_Oh, and also may I report that I just broke another personal record? This chapter is 4652 words! Yay. Andasyou may have predicted, I am doing another long chapter dance. _

_And one more thing: Please review. Let's see if we can get 8 reviews for this chapters and bump the number of reviews to an even 30! I will update as soon as I get 5 more reviews, though._

_Much Lovies,_

_Heidi_


	6. Me, Just Me

**_Thank you so much for the lovely reviews. As you will find out later, this chapter will be the last chapter devoted to Jess/Rob fluff. I am finally moving on. _**

_**Oh, and for those of you who are curious, the sequel to this story is already outlined, but I may not write it if this one doesn't end up being very well received…Just kidding. I'd never let Jess and her friends go that easily. **_

**_Though, you must know that I sometimes can be _very_ evil. Muhaha. Ahem. _**

**_Heidi-ho!_**

_**(A name that you may never call me or else I may have to crush you just a little bit)**_

Disclaimer: I only own the plot and unknown characters; the rest goes to the magnificent Meg Cabot.

**Me, Only Me**

_A Week Later…_

Rob dropped by my office this morning.

I wasn't surprised to see him there in the door of my office, because he'd done this all throughout the week which was actually one reason why the nice people at the gates—Glenda and Jason. There. I'd finally learned their names—had let him in through the gates without me going out there and signing him in.

"Hey, Rob," I greeted, lifting myself up off the chair, giving myself a head rush. I didn't make a big deal out of it, considering the fact that I get them a lot. _A lot._ I just strolled over to Rob and hugged him.

"Hi."

I went back over to my desk and started doing paperwork, which seemed like all I had been doing ever since we—Cecelia, Brian, a guy who I do not like to work with but have to because Krantz said so, and me—caught this freakin' psycho and put him in jail for the rest of his life.

Rob meandered behind my chair and said by my ear, giving it—my ear—a tingly feeling, "Do you have anything after work?"

"Um, I don't think so." I turned around to face him. "Why?"

"I was thinking we could—" Rob started.

I never got to find out what he thought we could do because at that moment Cecelia burst through my office doors saying, in a stage whisper, "Surprise party at seven! Surprise party at seven!"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "For whom?" I asked.

Cecelia shot me a weird look that so obvious said, "Where have you been?" but what she said out loud was, "Dr. Cyrus Krantz. Our boss? It's his birthday today, remember?" (a/n: I don't actually remember if it said anything about Cyrus Krantz's birthday in _Sanctuary_, because if it did, I didn't catch it. And I'm sorry if it's not the right time, just go with it. Please?)

"Oh, right," I said, while attempting to guess what Rob had wanted to suggest we do that evening after work, and failing miserably. And I had thought I was a psychic…

Only if all psychics could read people's minds in addition to whatever stuff they could do originally. That'd be nice.

"Hello? Jess?" Cecelia waved a hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my trance of thought. Figuratively, she didn't actually snap her fingers.

She smiled at my unfocused expression and said to Rob, "You can come, too. If you want."

Rob shrugged and looked at me for permission, sort of like how a sixteen-year-old asks his/her mother if he/she could go to a friend's house for the night.

Except Rob looked more like he'd rather be thrown into a pile of glass than go to Dr. Krantz's birthday party than hopeful.

If that makes any sense.

Which I'm sure it doesn't.

I bit my lip, and thought about this for a moment. I settled on getting Cecelia out of the way first, not that she was really _in the way_ or anything, but when I have a conversation with someone, I don't particularly like to be looked on by another. Like I'm in a play and the third person is a member of the audience or something.

I mean, I'm sure someone like Claire Lippman—who, by the way, when I went back to Indiana I found out, just had twins with my brother, a thought that made me want to hurl the turkey sandwich I'd just had for lunch—would love to be watched on by a third party, but I personally prefer not to be.

Anyway, so I said to Cecelia, politely, "Okay, we'll be there. Where is it?"

"Auditorium," she replied, and sensing my tone that she was not needed anymore, she slipped out of the room.

"Are we really going to go to Cyrus Krantz's party?" Rob asked, tipping his head, a gesture that may have looked quite feminine on some guys, but made Rob look even hotter. Which up until that point I didn't think was possible.

Seriously, Rob had grown out of his schoolboy cuteness—not that he'd ever been schoolboy-cute ever since I met him, really, now that I put some thought into it—and had grown into this manly sexiness.

You'd think his patients' eye problems would be fixed by just looking at him. I'll tell you, he was one piece of eye candy. Well, that, and he's really sweet.

You really wouldn't picture someone so hot to be so sweet, but he is.

Unfortunately though, my mind didn't get to ramble on about Rob any longer because said person was waiting for an answer from me.

"It'll be fine. I do it every year," I said, shrugging my shoulders like it was no biggie.

"You work for him," Rob pointed out flatly.

I looked at him for a few second before recognizing what he meant by that. And I laughed. Long and hard. "Look, Rob," I managed to gasp between laughs; "He probably doesn't even remember you."

He stared at me, probably wondering what the hell he was doing with the mad, mad laughing machine.

"You look a lot different than you did when I was in high school," I said, thinking about what I had thought just moments before.

"Really," he said—in that same could-be-a-question-or-statement way that drives me insane, no less—taking interest in this particular piece of information. Not in a self-centered we're-finally-talking-about-me way or anything, but in a genuinely curious way.

"Yeah. For one thing, you don't have a God-awful hair that practically screams 'I need to get a hair cut' anymore," I said with a grin on my face that told him I was joking. And giggled, yes giggled. Laugh all you want, but it's true, I now giggle. You just have to make peace with it yourself.

"Thank you, Mastriani. For that," he replied, chuckling a bit himself, and then said, "I'll go. Will that make you happy, sweetheart?"

I clenched my teeth and held up a finger. "No," I told him, referring to the term of endearment he just used.

Okay, I'll clear it up for you. For the past week, we thought, since I'd been warming up to Rob a bit more and thinking about maybe getting back with him—_maybe_ being the keyword, there—we had been trying to mind the right names to call each other besides our real names.

You know, like how couples have little pet names for each other like pumpkin, sweetie, or little cabbage…Well, that's more if you're French, really. According to my high school French textbook anyway. (a/n: She took French, right? I've read many Meg Cabot books, and I sometimes get a little confused between characters.)

I mean, we're adults, and it just seems right. I'm sure for you people who haven't heard from since Junior winter probably thinks it is totally nauseating, but I'm twenty-three and I probably should think about settling down and, you know, it could be with Rob. And it's just nice to have practice…doing the whole pretend-like-your-married thing, I mean.

It may confuse you, but it's perfectly clear and right to me, and that's all that matters.

By the way, we've already eliminated sweetie, honey, darling, dear, pumpkin, and now we've eliminated sweetheart.

But apparently, Rob took it the wrong way. "Then what do you want me to do?" he asked, not in a demanding or impatient way, although on paper it may seem a bit atrocious.

"No, no. I meant that 'sweetheart' is not the right way to go. We need to keep searching, but I would love for you to come to Dr. Krantz's party with me.

"Oh," he said, sounding half way between relieved and victorious, which I now realize is how he'd always sounded while talking to me ever since he came to New York…

"Rob?"

He nodded, indicating that he was listening.

"Are you afraid of me or something?" I said sounding mildly suspicious.

Rob visibly tensed. "No," he lied.

I looked at him in a way that said "Come on, now," and he 'fessed up.

"Well, sort of," he admitted.

I motioned for him to sit down so he and I could talk. "Why?"

He cleared his throat and picked at the leather band of his watch, obviously buying himself time. "Actually, I'm really more intimidated than scared."

I smiled to myself. Conversations like these totally take men out of their comfort zone. Seriously, it's so hard to make them admit that they're afraid.

Although, to tell you the truth, I honestly do not know the difference between scared and intimidated. I mean, its meanings aren't that different, are they? "And may I ask again, why?"

"Because," Rob said, slowly, fixating his gaze on his shoe instead of me, which I could take as an insult, but I won't because I knew he thought I was pleasing to the eyes by what came out of his mouth next, "you're a really amazing woman and after how things were left between us the last time we were together I don't know if I deserve another chance at being with you and I don't want to mess up anything more because that may rule out any chance that I had to be with you to begin with."

He was so panicked it was so cute.

I took his hands in mine. "Rob, looked at me," he tore his gaze from his shoe, "we both had our share of mistakes and judgment calls that left us where we were seven years ago. But now, things can have a fresh start between us," I smiled at him warmly, "Oh, and never think you don't _deserve_ me, because you have no idea how great you are."

* * *

"Cee, I thought this was supposedly to be like an office party, not a jamboree," I shouted above the loud sad excuse for music. 

"Well, now we know not to let Betty,"—Cecelia's fifteen-year-old niece, who in my opinion is a complete bitch—"plan parties," Cecelia replied offensively.

"You didn't know that already?" I demanded incredulously.

"I do now," Cecelia said, rolling her eyes.

"There are still a couple of forensic scientists working overnight, you know. They need their peace," I said, testing how long we could last before Cecelia turns this interesting violet color she always turns when she's extremely irritated. Well, she's either irritated or about to have a heart attack, really. But let's just hope for the former.

Cecelia rolled her eyes again at the previous comment and suggested, "Let's go out in the hallway, there are less people there and is probably quieter."

"Ya think?" I asked sarcastically. I do not hold up well in noisy environments.

Once we got outside and I could just feel myself become less and less testy.

No one said for several moments. I looked around and saw that someone was missing from this picture, and so I decided to fill the silence with, "Where's Gary?"

Well, I was trying to fill the silence and also I was really interested in where he was because Gary's usually attached at the hip with Cecelia at these social events. They freak him out, he says.

I apparently hit the bull's eye because, Cecelia blushed for some reason at this question. "He's…uh, getting my purse from the car," she said, obviously lying. Geesh, can't people just tell the truth these days? Or at least lie better?

"He is not," I accused.

She picked at a nail and mumbled something inaudible to human beings.

"Pardon me?"

"He's at the drug store…picking up a pregnancy test," Cecelia admitted, turning that shade of violet I was talking about, only she didn't look irritated nor did she look like she was about to have a heart attack. "So, where's Rob?" she asked, in a lame attempt to change the subject.

My eye widened. I was not about to let her change the subject. "Oh, my god. You think you might be pregnant?"

She blinked at me. "No, I need the pregnancy test to stir soup, Jess. What are you thinking? Of course, I think I might be pregnant. Why else do people need pregnancy tests?"

She was babbling like a little chipmunk. If it were any other situation, I'd find it comical, but…Cecelia, pregnant? Something wasn't adding up in my mind.

"But you aren't even married yet!" was the only thing that came screeching out of my mouth, though.

"I know, I know. That's the thing. Gary's a great guy and all, but I just don't think that I can handle being tied to one guy yet," she said, sucking in such a big gulp of air, I could practically see all the bones on her neck.

Then, me being me, I said the first thing that went through my head, "You are not thinking of an abortion."

Cecelia contemplated this thought and said, "Jess, calm down. I don't even know if I'm pregnant yet."

"When'd you find out you might be pregnant?" I asked, not realizing that I was so interested in other people's pregnancies. Maybe it was the fact that I was once there, but I totally blew the chance at it by driving home in the middle of a thunderstorm.

And that was when Rob came back from the restroom and strode up to us. "So, what's up?"

I looked at Cecelia for permission to tell Rob about this thing, and she shook her head. I nodded; tell her telepathically that I understood. Well, not _really_ telepathically, but you know what I mean.

"Uh, nothing," I said, pretending to be nonchalant, "We're just hanging out."

I could tell by the way that Rob narrowed his eyes at me that he didn't buy it, but him being the nice guy that he is, let it go.

Just when Cecelia looked like she was about to say something, a bunch of the girls from our department—of which there were only about, like, ten, out of the thirty some agents we have here—hopped over to where Rob, Cecelia and I were standing cheering, "This is so fun! We've never had a better office birthday party!"

I just raised my eyebrows at them. And my eyebrows went up higher when their gaze landed on Rob…

This dark haired girl—Sally was it?—decided to speak first, "Hello, I don't think we've met," and stuck her hand out for him to shake.

Rob politely took her hand and shook it.

"My name's Molly, Molly Hoffman," she introduced, _still shaking his hand._ What an ass. And Sally's a much better name for her than Molly.

Huh. I know I shouldn't be upset…but yet, I am. I mean, they're just shaking hands, and yet I have this urge to kick someone's—okay, that bitch Molly's—butt.

"Rob Wilkins," Rob said, wringing his hand out of Molly's trap of which is traditionally referred to as a hand, but I sincerely think trap is a much more fitting word.

Then, one by one, girls introduced themselves to Rob until I couldn't take it anymore. "Rob, honey," I said sweetly, even though we had already eliminated honey, taking hold of his left arm, "I think we should go now, we need to go to the store and pick up some more birth control pills for me, I'm really running low on those."

And when Rob shot me a bewildered look, I tried to tell him that I wanted to get out of here through my eyes. I guess it worked, since we waved good bye to Cecelia, Gary—who had gotten back from the drugstore by that time—and the rest of the _people.

* * *

_

"What was that all about?" Rob inquired as we entered my apartment, "You're on…" he cleared his throat even though I'm sure there was nothing to clear, "the Pill?"

I collapsed on the couch with my face buried in my hands and said in a flat tone, "Of course not. I haven't had sex in seven years, why would I be on any pill?"

I felt Rob looking down at me. Really, for a doctor, he was quite slow. "Then why'd you say you needed to pick up some more Pills?"

I took my head off of my hands and looked up at him, still standing in the doorway. "Because I didn't want to be around them anymore."

"Aren't they your friends?"

"Some of them are," I said. And when he still looked at me quizzically, I explained, "I didn't want you to be with them."

"What's the big deal?"

I sighed. "Couldn't you tell? They were all coming on to you, and I…Well, I don't want you to be in love with anyone but me right now. I want it to be me, just me and nobody else. I know it's selfish, especially because I still don't know how I feel about you, but it's hard enough as it is without a third wheel rolling alongside—"

Rob laid a set of fingertips on my lips to stop me from blabbing on like an unstoppable moron and said gently. "You don't have to worry, because I can promise you, as long as I live, it's always going to be you, just you."

I met his eyes and saw all the truth that I needed. He didn't have to say those words; his light blue eyes told me all that I ever need to know.

We just stayed that way until suddenly, the phone rang.

I went over to pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Jess!" someone who sounded vaguely familiar screeched into my ear, "We need you over at the bureau right now! A man just came in and heavily injured four agents including someone by the name of Harp?"

Oh, my God. Cecelia.

"I'll be right over," I said into the phone before hanging up and flying out the door.

* * *

**_Like it? If you do, please review. If you don't. . .still review. I'm going to update the next chapter as soon as I get 5 reviews._**

**_Much love,_**

**_Heidi_**


	7. Love Without Words

Oy. I'm so sorry that it took me so long to update. It's totally the school administration's fault for starting school, it's the teachers' faults for piling us with so much homework, and it's my fault that I decide take honors courses every year. It's been quite hectic. But anyway…

Continuing with where I'd left off with the shooting at Cyrus Krantz's birthday party, and how Cecelia got shot.

Oh, and will Rob say the three magical words in this chapter? Read and see.

Heidi

_Disclaimer: Everything except the plot and unknown characters belong to Meg Cabot._

**Love Without Words**

By the time I got to the bureau, the ambulances were already pulling away from the building, so I followed them in my old Caddillac.

When I got to the hospital approximately three minutes after the ambulances, I went straight to the bedazzled lady at the front desk.

"Hello, how may I help you?" she asked half-heartedly.

"Hi," I said, "Four of our agents were just carried into the emergency room, correct?"

"Um," she paused, looking reluctant, "Yes, but they are currently in the surgery room so there will be no visitors allowed."

I rolled my eyes. Duh, I knew that. People who get shot usually went to the surgery room to get the bullet out of them; it's not as if I hadn't been there before. Yes, I had been shot at several times in my line my work, not that I'd been hit many times, but there were the occasional few. "Okay. Do you know where Cecelia Harp will be taken to after surgery?"

"I'm sorry, but I do not have the authority to give out patient information, sweetie," she answered, flashing an apologetic smile in my direction and started to flip through the newspaper.

I hit the counter to get her attention because I was thoroughly tired and frustrated at that point. "Look, pal. I'm with the FBI," I hissed at her, whipping out my badge and stuffed it in her face, "and I need to know."

Which was actually sort of ODing my advantages as a federal officer a tad bit, but let's forget about that, shall we?

The woman's eyes almost popped out of her head at this sudden outburst of action on my part and said meekly, "Room 217."

After apologizing to the front desk lady and then thanking her, I headed off towards the elevator to get to the second floor, where I waited for Cecelia with Gary for the next seventy minutes during which I called Rob.

"What happened to you?" he demanded after answering on the first ring. Oops. So technically I should I should have told him where I had ran off to.

"I'm sorry. I'm at the hospital," I answered, and then realizing how this might have sounded, I added, "Because Cecelia and a couple of other FBI agents were shot at Dr. Krantz's party after we left."

"Is she going to be okay?" Rob asked, sounding like he couldn't really care less, but was asking just to be polite.

"Yes," I answered, "At least I think so. One of the doctors I spoke to told me that she was only shot in the leg."

"Shot? What happened?" Rob questioned, actually sounding like he cared now.

"I think there was this shooting at the Bureau, although I don't know for sure. Gary won't tell me anything. He says that I have to wait and hear it from Dr. Krantz," I replied, shooting a glare towards Gary's direction by the door.

Just when Rob was about to say something, some hospital people wheeled a very pale and weak looking Cecelia in. This was a Cecelia that I had never seen. It sort of took me by surprise.

Only I didn't get to wallow in my state of shock for long since apparently the doctor that was in charge of Cecelia had some questions.

"Is either of you one of the patient's family members?" Dr. Long—which I read from his name tag—asked Gary and me.

"No, but I'm her boyfriend," Gary answered.

Dr. Long looked at me, and I said, "I'm her friend. How is she?"

He ignored my question. "Has any members of her family been contacted?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes at him, which I know was really disrespectful, but sometimes people get on my nerves a little bit and I just can't help it. "Judging by the fact that all of her family members live either on the other side of the country in California or on the other side of the world in France, I think it's safe to say that even if they were contacted, they wouldn't be of any help."

He looked calm, obviously having dealt with many patients' frenetic friends. "Alright. Now, there are some forms that I'm going to ask you to fill out. In the meantime, we will discuss Miss Harp's status."

So in the next what seemed like an eternity, Gary and I filled out forms for Cecelia and Dr. Long went on and on about how Cecelia was to be unconscious for the next twenty-four hours or so and that she is going to be fine but needs stay in the hospital for at least a week for further observation.

When most of the forms were completed and he ran of out things to repetitively say, he asked Gary and me if we had any questions.

Gary and I had one question in common.

I had the honor of asking it—really, some honor—since Gary apparently wasn't going to judging by the fact that he didn't speak after two minutes of a pause in which I waited for him to ask it. "Was Cecelia pregnant at the time that she was shot?"

Dr. Long looked uncomfortable for a second and managed to squeak out a useless, "We will get back to you on that," and then reporting that he had another patient to be with and that he'd be back in a moment, he left.

Only seconds after Dr. Long left, Dr. Krantz came into the picture. Really, high degrees much?

"Jessica, may I speak to you for one moment?" he said, poking his head into the room.

I got up off the chair and stalked behind him into the hallway.

"What do you want?" I snapped, not realizing how tired I was—after all, I had stayed in that room for over an hour waiting and filled out forms for about an hour and a half with no intermission in between since "In life, there are no intermissions!"—until then.

He overlooked my testiness and said, "We found out who the mystery shooter was. Apparently, he's very famous in Indiana, where you grew up. He goes by the name Mini SSass but no one knows his real name. Here," Dr. Krantz stuffed a file in my hands, "we decided to put you on the case."

I nodded. "Okay."

And with that, I walked home. Cecelia was safe here in the hospital with Gary, but I needed to make sure that I found this man as soon as possible so that everyone else I love would be, too.

* * *

I didn't bring the file to work the next day because the people at work are somewhat nosey—they are FBI agents after all—and I didn't want people questioning me about it so I left it home in my bedroom where I thought it would keep me away from mental and emotional duress. 

I found out how utterly wrong I was the moment I stepped into my room and saw Rob bent over the file, brows furrowed.

At first, I was feeling a bit guilty for not telling him about this assassin—aSSASSin, Mini SSass, I get it—but after a few seconds of contemplation of this currently situation, I felt fury building up inside me.

I cleared my throat to get his attention.

Rob looked up at me, startled. "Jess."

"What's up?" I said, attempting to shield my anger that he's poking his nose in my business, leaning on my doorframe.

He looked kind of nervous. "Jess, I was just—"

But I never gave him a chance to explain because at that moment, I couldn't hold in my anger over him always snooping around and wanting to know what I'm up to. I know he only does this because he wants to protect me, but he's got to let it and comprehend the fact that I can take care of myself. "I don't care. You aren't supposed to be in my room for any reason, okay? I need my privacy; what I don't need is for someone to always be on my case. I had enough of that when I was sixteen what with the FBI always stalking me. You should know that better than anyone else. And besides, I'm a federal officer now. There are some things that I have in this room that isn't supposed to be for someone like you to see. You shouldn't look at stuff that I have on my desk and you don't have the authority to."

He narrowed his eyes at me and asked bitterly, "Someone like me?"

Me, being the idiot of the moment, didn't get what he was trying to get across and said, "Yes, someone like you! Some of the stuff that I keep here are confidential and supposedly to only viewed by authorized personnel, so why you felt that you had to go look around in my room and open up my folders are beyond me."

Rob nodded. "That's now you feel, now is it?"

"Yes," I answered, still not understanding the message that he was trying to say.

He nodded again and strolled out of my room and out of the door, but not before saying words that made me know what an awful person I was.

"Mastriani, I don't know about you, but I felt that you had had a tough time lately so I was trying to do a nice thing for you and clean your apartment so you'd feel better, but little did I know that that is an impossible thing to do."

And then, he shut the door on his way out. That is the moment when the world chose to collapse on top of my tousled heart and put it through a shredder.

* * *

The rest of the day, I spent very productively. Mainly, I wallowed through my own ugliness of heart by sitting on my bed reading books about people unlike me. Or more specifically, normal people who have healthy relationships. As in relationships where the two people can get along without fighting every other second. 

Oh, and also throughout the three hours that Rob was gone, I thought about how he was probably out with some girl that was less of a pain than me…and maybe hooking up with her, which lead me to my next thoughtful topic: How I hadn't had any sex in the last seven years and how utterly unhealthy that is. Okay, actually that isn't completely true, I might have had sex about once throughout these seven years of a dry period, but that time didn't count because I hardly knew that it was happening and the sex sort of ended before it could even begin.

It was when I was in this wave of thought that I heard someone open the door. Somehow, my first instinct was that it was Cecelia, but I was obviously wrong since she was in the hospital. It was Rob. Of course if was him. Who else had the keys to my apartment and would choose to come into it unannounced at…seven thirty? I have a very sad social life.

Just when I started thinking of my social life—or lack thereof—I remembered Rob and his entrance.

His six foot figure stood in the frame of my door.

"Hey. Can I come in?" Rob asked softly.

Although I was done being mad at him long ago and wanted him to talk to me more than anything else in the world right now, I still didn't want to seem to needy or clingy, so I said, shrugging my shoulders, "Sure."

He came in and sat down on my desk chair, making it seem as if he came any closer, I'd bite him or something.

I motioned for him to sit by my on my bed.

After a moment of silence, I asked, "So, what'd you do today?"

He looked down at his feet, "I took a walk around the city."

"Sounds fun," I commented.

He looked up, looked at me, and noticing that I had my gaze glued on my filing cabinet, he touched my chin tentatively and steered my face towards him. "Look, Jess, I didn't come to you for small talk, I want to apologize for before. You were right; I shouldn't have been looking at your papers."

I shook my head. "No, Rob. It was me," I said, my voice wobbling a little, "I should have listened to you explain. I shouldn't have just jumped to conclusions and started yelling."

"But if I hadn't done anything wrong, then you wouldn't have anything to jump with in the first place," he said looking deep into my eyes, "And I just want you to know that I did what I did only because I wanted to protect you. I know that you said you could take care of yourself and I trust you to, but sometimes I…I'm afraid," he paused. "I'm afraid that I'm going to lose you. You're the most important person to me in the world to me. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you, especially if I knew I could have done something to prevent it."

I smiled a watery smile. I had never heard such sweet words said in such a sincere and honest way. "You have no idea how much it means to me that you care so much about me."

And with that, I kissed him. It was a soft, but loving kiss, and he responded with the same love and care.

It was a kiss that went on for hours and hours and hours. Although we didn't have sex or anything, but somehow I think it was more intimate that sex. For us that night, it was soft caresses and loving kisses that were not restricted to the lips. I think the part that made it so special was that we looked each other in the eyes the whole time.

It was knowing what the other had to say without saying it.

It was love without words.

* * *

Last night, just before we fell asleep together, I told him that I love him. This morning, I knew where Mini SSass is, only in my dream, his name was John Strauss, but I know he's the same guy. 

Although I wasn't about to alert Rob of that fact when only minutes after I opened my eyes, he rolled over and blinked open his as well.

"Good morning," he greeted, his voice sounding as smooth and silky as ever.

"Good morning to you, too," I said, my voice sounded rough and squeaky. Life is very unfair. "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Great," he murmured into my neck nibbling it affectionately, "How can I not sleep well with you beside me? And with the knowledge of last night…"

I smiled at him. Only if I had slept half as well. Damn those psychos and my "gift." I mean, the night after a loving round of kisses should have been better spent than dreaming about some guy trying to kill me, right? I think so.

"How about you?" he asked, transferring his nibbling to my earlobe.

I nodded my head, making it hard on him, the guy who's trying to nibble my ear, do so. "I slept…fine."

Apparently I was not very convincing since he lifted his head from my ear, looked me in the eye and asked worriedly, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," I replied, averting my gaze from his blue eyes that were so pale it almost seemed like the color of fog.

He took my chin in his calloused fingers like he had just the night before and said, "No, it's not nothing. Tell me, what's the matter?" After a pause, he asked, looking suspicious, "Did you have a vision about the guy who shot your friend?"

I pushed my head up off my pillow with my elbows and propped my head up to look at him. "Yes, I did."

His brows furrowed and studied my face. "So," he said, "What are you going to do?"

I shrugged. "What can I do?" I said, playing with some of the hairs on his chest since, during last night's activities, he had lost his shirt and frankly, so had I, "I have to stop this guy or else someone else is going to get hurt."

"But what about you, Jess?" He shooed my hands away and grasped my bare shoulders. "Don't you ever think about what's going to happen with you? What if you get hurt? These people are not normal. They're out of their mind. It's very likely that you're going to get hurt dealing with them."

I shook my head. "In my line of work, I can't think about the safety of myself too much. What I need to ask myself is not 'Would I get hurt?' In stead, I always need to ask myself 'If I don't do this and make it happen quick, who would be involved?' 'Who else would get hurt?' 'How many families would I put in grief for that one selfish moment?'"

Rob sat up. "What about the people you would put in grief if you got hurt? Do you know how many people care about you in this world? Your parents, your siblings, your friends, me…"

I ran a hand through my tousled hair to buy myself time. "It's just what I do, Rob. You have to understand."

"I don't," he replied, hopped off of the bed and started to pull on his pants.

I shook my head. I can't let us go into another fight so easily. I just couldn't.

I stood up on my bed and wrapped my arms around his neck from behind. "Come on, Rob," I whispered into his ears, "Try to understand what I have to do."

He turned around and looked at me for a second before replying, "You don't _have_ to do anything."

And on comes the fire inside me. Honestly, I need anger management help.

"Why are you always like this?" I demanded, starting to hook my bra back on. "I mean, ever since I was sixteen, you had always been this same way, it was always your way or no way. Can't you open up your brain the tiniest crack to let in the fact that I have a career that I care about and because of that career I need to do certain things that you may not approve of," I continued, slipping on my pants, "When had you turned into this controlling neurotic person?"

Rob turned around and looked at me, his features having dramatically softened. "Jess, I—"

"No, listen to me. I need you to stop this thing that you have going on with always trying to talk me out of what I need to do. It was why we got into that huge fight yesterday. You need to try to understand. Why can't you understand that I am a big girl now? I'm different from when I was sixteen. I know what I'm doing. I'm a professional and I work for the FBI for Christ's sake! So why don't you just leave me alone and let me do what I have to—"

"Because I love you."

"Well, you can just—Wait, what?" I asked, totally taken by surprise. Had he said what I thought he had said? Had he said those three words that I had been waiting for all these years?

"I love you," he repeated, confirming that I was not going nuts.

I closed my eyes, my anger dissolving away due to the sweetness of his words and the way he said them, like they had actually meant something.

"I love you, too. More than anything or anyone in the world," I said, walking around to the other side of the bed. I went on the tip of my toes to give him a gentle kiss on the lips. "But this is just something that I have to do."

He looked straight into my eyes and I looked into his, and as he said his next words, I swear I saw fear in them, "I know you do."

"Thank you."

"But if you are going to do this, I'm going with you," he said, pulling away.

"Okay," I agreed, shocking him and myself simultaneously.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, we set out to go to the FBI building to report the location of Mini SSass, a.k.a. John Strauss.

"I cannot believe that I'm letting you come along with me," I said to Rob as our feet hit the sidewalk outside of my apartment.

I heard Rob snort behind me.

"No, seriously. Usually I do this type of stuff by myself. I mean, a person helping me usually just slows me down because the people that I usually get partnered up with are for the most part completely useless people and they're just luggage that I have to carry around. But this time it's you, you know? I mean, you may cause a distraction for me or something." I paused there because I expected a mocking joke to come right there from Rob. Except there wasn't one. Not a sound was made from him.

So I turned around to make sure that he was okay…

But what I found when I looked back was nothing. No one at all behind me. The only thing there was Rob's leather jacket.

* * *

Okay, so technically I lied. This chapter was sort of a Jess/Rob fluff chapter, too, but I just couldn't help it. It's very tempting to someone like me to add a fluffy chapter. But I can assure you, next chapter will DEFINITELY be a serious action one, which I'm sure you can tell judging by the way how this chapter ended. 

Also, I will start writing the next chapter as soon as someone tells me what television show and season the quote "In life, there are no intermissions!" came from, otherwise I may have to take my time. . .which could end up taking a while for me to update again.

Either that, or review. Please, please, please, please, please. Five reviews or more, I'll start writing the eighth chapter.

Muhahahahaha. Ahem.

Heidi


	8. Sacrifice

**Hello, it's me again. Just so you know, this chapter is going to be a very short but important chapter that is going to be the second to last one in this story. So enjoy! (I know, what a lame line, but please don't be mad at me because I've got a whole lot of homework since I am one of those weird overachiever people who take a whole bunch AP classes and is in honors English and math and have to pay the price of having little to no social life.)**

**Heidi**

**Sacrifice**

"Oh, my God!" I screamed, bursting into Cecelia's hospital room, which I'm sure is some sort of a violation of the hospital codes, but at a time like that, I couldn't care less.

All three of them—Cecelia, who had awakened, Gary and Dr. Krantz—looked up from their own reading materials—newspaper for Dr. Krantz, jumbo textbook for Gary and a copy of this month's _Vogue_ for Cecelia.

Cecelia closed her magazine—but, I couldn't help noticing, leaving a finger in the page that she was on—and smiled a 100 watt smile at me. "Hey, Jess. What's up?"

"Rob's gone! He took Rob!" I screeched, causing a nurse who was passing by in the hallways to say in a very Hello-how-may-I-help-you-friendly-operator voice, "Miss, please keep your voice down. This is a hospital," only to be driven away by me, who was not nearly as polite nor friendly and yelled at the tope of my lungs, "FBI official business!"

Dr. Krantz stood up from his chair, put a hand on my shoulder—not a very smart move at a time like that considering my whole thing for personal space invasion—and said in a soothing tone, "Calm down and tell us what happened."

So I told them everything that happened—okay, not what happened between Rob and me the night before, but you know—while crying my eyes out. Honestly, it was very embarrassing bawling like a baby in front of my boss and coworkers in an orange plastic hospital chair.

"And now, all I have of him is his jacket which is of no use whatsoever because it's not him, and I don't know where I can find him because I don't," I babbled on, hiccupping along the way, "I don't," I hiccupped again, "I don't know whayavventouem," I finished, my last four words stifled by the burial of my face into Rob's jacket, getting, I'm pretty sure, snot all over it. Hey, I never said I was the most _sanitary_ person in the world.

No one spoke. The only sounds in Cecelia's hospital room came from me who was still crying softly into Rob's jacket. Crying, crying, and crying…

Until suddenly, just like I had that summer when I was at that camp for gifted musicians or whatever and that time at school when Mark Leskowski had kidnapped Claire Lippman—Mikey's twins, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew—I had a vision. It wasn't a clear one, but all of a sudden I knew where Rob was—which was not the same place where I had dreamt Mini SSass to be last night for some reason.

And I ran for all I was worth.

Sure, I had to avoid a few obstacles—i.e. the nurses wheeling clean towels around and kids doing hopscotch, whom I accidentally tripped over, causing one of the little girls to scrape her knee, but I had no time to apologize, I'd do it later—but I got to Rob in less than fifteen minutes. Where I ended up was in an old garage. You know, the ones that criminals always seemed to be hiding their victims in those bad movies. It turns out that entertainment does have a certain amount of truth in them.

The place was moldy and dark and completely foul smelling.

"Lightning Girl, I knew you'd be here," a voice said. I didn't see who the voice belonged to until he flicked on the lights, allowing me to spot Rob and himself.

It was Mini SSass as I had predicted.

Rob recognized me instantly, and though he couldn't talk on account of the fact that his mouth was gagged, the spark in his eyes told me one thing, _Don't try to safe me. Go, Jessica. Go. _

I wasn't going to go anywhere without him. No, not without a fight. We had been through so much together, I'm not about to let all that go to waste because of this stout little man who, by the way, has a goatee—who does he think he is? The Pope?

"Let him go," I commanded, my voice shaking. I told myself that it was of anger—pure, unadulterated anger—not fear, but I knew better. I wasn't afraid for my own safety, but I was afraid for Rob. I mean, he may be a big boy and all but he was tied down by ropes.

As I was thinking this thought through, however, I noticed something. Apparently, this guy—Mini SSass, I mean—wasn't all there upstairs because I discovered that Rob's ropes were only single knotted and could be easily undone.

And being the rookie that he is, Mini SSass visibly left a gun in the corner of the garage, not two yards from where Rob was tied down.

I could save Rob. We could have our happy ending together. I could. We could. All I had to do to get Rob free was to distract Mini SSass.

"I'll let him go if you die in my hands," he replied.

"How are you going to do that?" I inquired, backing away, steering him as far from Rob as possible.

I put one hand in my pocket, as though I had a gun, which I didn't, because me, being the stupid, stupid, stupid person that I am, didn't bring any backup, a phone nor a gun, I led his attention towards my hands so that I could have time to eye-signal Rob to get himself free.

He knew, and started to subtly wriggle himself out.

"Put your hands out to where I can seen them," he commanded, looking crazy-eyed, like that Jim Henderson guy I dealt with the winter before everything in my life had gone askew—a.k.a. when Rob and I broke up—and I lost all contact of everyone I knew. Except Dr. Krantz, of course, but he doesn't really count since he's always going to be sort of a secondary character in my life, because he was such a poo-poo head.

Ah, be astounded by my maturity young ones.

I took my hands out of my pockets and held them beside my ears criminal-meets-cop style. "Okay, how about we make a deal?" I suggest, frantically attempting to send Rob telepathic signals to _hurry up_.

Mini SSass narrowed his eyes at me. "What type of a deal?"

"Um," I said holding out that one word as long as possible without seeming suspicious, trying to see out of the corner of my eye if Rob had untied himself yet. He'd gotten the ropes around his hands undone and was about to untie his feet while trying to make it subtle so that Mini SSass doesn't see his movement out of the corner of _his_ dark, evil, mysterious—and crazy—eye—singular because Mini SSass seemed to have some sort of patch on the other eye. "I was thinking that if I—"

I never got to finished what I thought I could do because just at that second, hell broke loose, because just as I was finishing my thought, Rob got the knot around his ankles loosened and reached for the gun in the corner which was precisely the moment when Mini SSass noticed that his little—okay, big, since Rob was, like, over six feet—victim hadn't been oh-so-lovely in state of wanting assassinate his captor.

So before Rob could pull the trigger on Mini SSass, Mini SSass whipped out a gun of his own out of his belt loop. . .

And before anyone can say the words, "Screw you,"—which, by the way, was my favorite thing to say at that time—took a shot at Rob.

What did _I_ do just then?

Oh, I just jumped. Right in front of Rob.

And the bullet when soaring right into my chest.

* * *

**Review!**


	9. How Do I Live

So technically I decided against that sad ending I had planned. Instead, I'm going to have an extremely traumatic and dramatic sequel to this story, but enjoy this chapter for now!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the 1-800-WHERE-R-You characters. They all belong to Meg Cabot. The song How do I Livebelongs to LeAnn Rimes.

**How Do I Live?**

**How do I,  
Get through one night without you?  
If I had to live without you,  
What kind of life would that be?**

**Oh, I **

**I don't know what I would do**

**I'd be lost if I lost you**

**If you ever leave**

Okay, so the last thing I had heard before I fell unconscious was someone screaming my name, then a shot was fired—and not the one that had shot me, either. Now, it's what felt like eternity later and I'm being blinded by these stupid florescent hospital lights.

Lovely.

But all thoughts—including the ability to think—were washed away as soon as I saw Rob sleeping contently at the foot of my hospital bed.

Rob.

He was okay. Nothing had happened to him.

Just as I was attempting to sit up without waking up Rob, I felt a throbbing, shooting pain at my chest.

"Ow." I winced.

My hand instinctively went to clutch my chest only to realize that it can't because that area was all bandaged up and my arm was in a cast.

Oh yeah. That's right, I got shot. I almost forgot about that.

I guess all this movement startled Rob out of his peaceful slumber because the next thing I knew; he was lifting his head up and looking around with a panic-stricken face. That is, until his eyes landed on me, then his features crumbled into relief.

"Jess," he murmured.

I smiled despite my discomfort. "Hey, you."

He didn't say anything. Minutes passed and still nothing.

Then, a tear rolled down his cheek. It caught me by surprise. I swear, my jaw dropped open and I was getting hospital bed-burns on my jaw.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

**Baby, you would take away everything **

**Good in my life**

**And tell me now,**

**How do I live **

**Without you**

**I want to know**

**How do I breathe without you**

**If you ever go?**

He shook his head and turned his face away from me. He spoke. "I thought I'd lost you. When the doctor told me that if you didn't wake up in the next twenty-four hours, you'd be gone forever, I was scared, Jess. I didn't want to lose you. I love you." He turned his face around to look at me.

He'd said it again. Those words. Those precious, beautiful words that had let me know the way he felt about me. I could listen to him say it all day long. _I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. _

But unfortunately, no one has that much time for romance.

"I love you, too," I whispered. And before I knew it, Rob's lips were gingerly caressing mine. "Mmm," I murmured.

Then I remembered something and pulled away, ruining the moment. "Just after I was shot," I said quickly, and watched as Rob winced at the memory, "I heard a gunshot go off, who else got shot?"

Rob smiled at me. "I admire you, Jess. At a time like this, you can still think about other people."

I rolled my eyes, which was quite a feat at the moment, since Rob looked so incredibly irresistible with razor stubble on his chin, tousled hair and gorgeous foggy eyes. "No, really, Rob. Tell me."

**How do I ever**

**Ever survive**

**How do I, **

**How do I,**

**Oh, how do I live?**

"It was Mini SSass," he told me, "And you don't have to worry about him anymore. The bullet went right through his heart and he died immediately."

Relief washed over me. Okay, so technically all my hard work and getting shot hadn't been for nothing.

I lifted the arm without the cast on it to stroke Rob's cheek. Rob let his head loll in my hand and covered my hands with his hard calloused hands that are so oxymoronic—okay, not really, but that word just sounds _so_ cool—because it has such a gentle touch.

"I don't know what I'd do if I found out it was you who had been shot after me and not Mini SSass," I said, letting my hand fall into Rob's lap, "I don't know if I'd die of—"

"Don't say that word, Jess. You won't die. You're too good to go," Rob said.

**Without you**

**There'd be no sun in my sky**

**There'd be no love in my life**

**What kind of life would that be?**

**Oh, I**

**I don't know what I would do**

**I'd be lost if I lost you**

**If you ever leave**

"But honestly. I would see no point of living if you were out of my life," I told him.

Rob inhaled deeply. "I know for a fact that without you, I would loose the will to live. In my life, if you were out of the picture, my life wouldn't be what it is."

He leaned in again for a soft kiss on the lips, because my lung capacity is extraordinarily low thanks to Johnny—a.k.a. Mini SSass—there.

When he pulled away he said, "But in the meantime."

**Baby you would take away everything**

**Need you with me**

**Baby don't you know that you're everything**

**Good in my life**

**And tell me now**

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white velvet box that kind of resembled a…

It couldn't be. Oh, my God.

It was the moment. It was the moment that I had been picturing so many times when we were going out in high school. It was that moment that I have been waiting and waiting and waiting for.

And it's happening now.

**How do I live without you**

**I want to know**

**How do I breathe without you**

**If you ever go**

**How do I ever**

**Ever survive**

**How do I**

**How do I**

"Jessica Mastriani, will you marry me?"

I closed my eyes and smiled.

"Yes."

**Oh, how do I live?

* * *

**

_And that is the end, my friends! Au revoir! _


End file.
